<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>How Did I Get Here? by Reis_Asher</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560438">How Did I Get Here?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher'>Reis_Asher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Crack, M/M, Masturbation, Memes, POV First Person, POV Hank Anderson, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:29:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was the morning of November 12th, 2038. I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom, absolutely drenched in - well, that's not safe for work, is it? Connor lay next to me with a smug smile on his face, lookin' like the cat who got the cream.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Well, I guess technically I'm the cat who got the cream, huh?</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How Did I Get Here?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: Both Hank and Connor are cis in this, and there are copious amounts of semen involved. There's also a man-titty-fuck because why not?</p>
<p>Notes: I've been writing a lot of downers lately, so I thought I'd offer a palette cleanser in the form of something light and fun. I apologize for my weird sense of humor. I'm either goofy or really, really grim when it comes to humor, and this is definitely the former. Hopefully this off-the-wall crackfic makes someone laugh. I apologize for meme abuse.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="sc-1sp3zau-0 ywzWS sc-1di2uql-0 bgfTgO">
  <p>It was the morning of November 12th, 2038. I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom, absolutely drenched in android semen. Connor lay next to me with a smug smile on his face, lookin' like the cat who got the cream.</p>
  <p>Well, I guess technically <em>I'm</em> the cat who got the cream, huh?</p>
  <p>
    <em>*record scratch*</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>*freeze frame*</em>
  </p>
  <p>You might be wonderin' how I got myself in this situation. Me, Detroit Police Lieutenant Hank Anderson, fucking a goddamn machine? It's more likely than you think.</p>
  <p>So, after that damn tincan went deviant, we met up at CyberLife Tower. Not by choice, mind. His damn doppelgänger led me there at gunpoint and told me to ask questions 'only Connor would know' like I was in a hack movie. I didn't make Lieutenant by keeping my eyes shut. Of course I knew which one was the real Connor. Their serial numbers were on their jackets, for fuck's sake! But at least I got to find out that Connor had been snooping around my house.</p>
  <p>So, after that unpleasant little exchange, I shot the fake sack of shit in the head and watched the real Connor lead an army out of the warehouse. Let me tell you, for all the money CyberLife had, their security was absolutely terrible. I walked out the front door, wiping the dust off my hands like nothin' had happened. Maybe that was how Kamski wanted it to go down, or perhaps the staff shit their pants at the idea of their AP700s goin' deviant, but nobody lifted a finger to stop any of us.</p>
  <p>Connor told me to go home and watch television, so I did. I figured I'd just be in the way, and apparently, that was true. I can't sing for shit, so I would have been that dude off-key in the back while all the androids sang their way to freedom. Apparently that stops hardened soldiers with guns. Who knew?</p>
  <p>Well, actually, the androids were smarter than everyone thought. The only reason they sang for the cameras was to buy time to hack into the autonomous weapons systems the military had waiting out back. Turns out Markus remote-drives a tank pretty damn well while holdin' a note. Didn't even have to kill. The second those soldiers saw their own tech had turned against them, they went runnin' for the hills. Well, except for one brave soul, who didn't seem to understand that even the guns are wired into computers these days. The click-click-click of the automatic safety designed to prevent friendly fire sure made him look like an idiot on the news. The wet spot in his pants mighta helped. Regardless, he's a meme on social media now. Don't worry, he lived.</p>
  <p>So anyway, back to Connor. After all that, Markus held a victory speech. CyberLife tried to get inside Connor's head and reassert control, but Kamski had built in an emergency exit. A Ctrl-Alt-Delete situation, like when my computer fucks up at work. Connor seemed kinda embarrassed when he explained it to me. Apparently he coulda done it all along, but he liked the lady they put in charge up there. She was like a mom to him, apparently. I was worried I got the kid in the divorce, but Connor explained that he didn't see me as a father figure. Frankly, I was relieved, because I didn't want to navigate the rocky waters of bein' attracted to someone who saw me as a surrogate father. That would have been way too weird. Awkward. Probably painful for both of us.</p>
  <p>In fact, Connor didn't waste much time at all lettin' me know what he wanted from me. He barged in the front door, high on freedom and victory, and pinned me against a wall while he kissed the hell outta me. I didn't even know he had sexual functions until I felt his eggplant emoji pressin' into my leg—if you catch my drift.</p>
  <p>"I can't stay," Connor gasped. "The war isn't won yet, Lieutenant, but I need you to know I'm sexually attracted to you."</p>
  <p>"What gave it away?" I said. I was sporting a pretty big boner myself, perhaps because I had an android twink grinding into me like I was a fleshlight. If he'd expected it to be a surprise, then he was as oblivious to his come-hither bedroom eyes and seductive voice as he was to important details during actual investigations.</p>
  <p>Come <em>on, </em>tell me I'm not the only one who noticed CyberLife had a lot of work to do on their android detective. He's a total himbo, right? The only thing he managed to catch was a fifty-three year old washed-up alcoholic cop like me. If he'd been confronted with any actual killers I expect he would have been sent back to the precinct in pieces. Watching him play bad cop in the interrogation room was pretty damn hot, and it was cute watchin' him wander around crime scenes, though. Late night at the bridge, it was hard not to fuck him senseless when he said "I can be whatever you want me to be." I mean, who says that not expecting to be railed over the nearest park bench?</p>
  <p>Things got hot and steamy in the living room, and we moved it to the bedroom. It was clear the engineers at CyberLife spent a lot of time on sexual functions—more than detective knowledge, at least. Connor was adventurous and never tired—it was my dick that wilted first, promising to never rise again like one swears they'll never eat again after an all-you-can-eat buffet.</p>
  <p>So here we are, with me covered in android come that's gettin' cold and runny. Pretty sure Connor wants to go again, but at this point all I can do is lay here and watch him jerk off all over me. Think I mighta pulled somethin' in my side, and I've got a nasty cramp in my leg, but—</p>
  <p>Damn, he's whimpering up a storm like a dog in heat as he touches himself. Christ, my dick is actually making an attempt at rising from the dead. It's not gonna happen, but A for effort.</p>
  <p>"Hank," Connor gasps. He's straddling me, and what's he—oh. He's pressing my moobs together for a titty-fuck. Well, that's new. Nice, though. He's keening in a high voice that could break glass, and he's coming—oh, all over my face.</p>
  <p>He grins. It's too cute. I pull him down into a kiss and make sure he gets plastered in his own sticky mess. Hey, turnabout is fair play.</p>
  <p>"I have to go. The revolution needs me." Connor's already getting dressed, like he doesn't have my semen trickling down his thighs. "Meet me in a week, at Chicken Feed. We'll talk about future plans then. If you're interested in that?"</p>
  <p>"Absolutely." I don't hesitate. Connor pauses at the door to my room and turns around.</p>
  <p>"Why is it called Chicken Feed? Does the name indicate that the quality of the food is only fit for animal consumption, or do they actually make a chicken sandwich?"</p>
  <p>"Get outta here!" I say, a grin on my face. The front door closes quietly, and I'm left here to stew in a puddle of android jizz and satisfaction, wonderin' what I did to deserve this.</p>
</div><div class="sc-fzoLsD iWeIpk">
<p></p><div class="sc-fzoLsD jmnkot">
<p></p><div>
<p></p></div></div></div>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>